Sick Days
by Semi-Retired Writer
Summary: GBPPD universe. Tony handles his first sick day post adoption.


A/N: Yes, I caved and decided to write one of those scenarios where May dies and Tony adopts Peter. Please don't hate me if that's not your thing. I'll still be writing my usual brand of fics as well. This is meant to be read as a side story to a longer series I plan to upload in the near-ish future!

 **Sick Days**

Most of the team is mid-movie when Peter stumbles in wrapped in his comforter, pale and more withdrawn than Tony has seen him in a long time. He wastes no time in plonking himself down next to Tony and curling half into his thigh, half into the back of the sofa.

When he asks if he's alright, all he gets is a short nod and an awkward silence. If he didn't know better, he might think Peter was mad at him. It's not like that though, not with Peter. He's not the type to devolve into angry silences to prove a point.

Peter's one of the most open people he's ever met, but his nightmares are one of the few things that make him clam up. It's easy to shift the blame to a simple bad dream, though they're never just "bad dreams" with Peter. No, they're terrifying, detailed rehashings of the worst parts of the kid's life, and even at sixteen years old, he has a _lot_ of those. They've largely disappeared since Peter worked through his grief in therapy and has been able to accept what happened with his aunt, but he does still fall into the occasional relapse that leaves him waking up shaken and struggling to reorient himself. He also has his nights where he just can't sleep and comes to find Tony for a distraction, but those don't leave him looking ruffled like this.

Tony lets his hand fall into Peter's tangled curls and works his way through them as gently as he can while everyone goes back to the movie, long used to not drawing attention to Peter's issues before he's ready to address them himself.

He doesn't pay much attention to the screen after that, too distracted by his kid to follow the plot. All he knows is that they're through the first movie and well into the second when there's a muffled whimper that proves to be his only warning before Peter is jolting up and immediately decorating the carpet and Tony's socks with a frankly impressive amount of vomit for a boy who probably weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet.

Peter just looks confused and slightly taken aback, like it hasn't sunken it what's happened yet. After a moment of his own surprise, Tony tries to rescue him and deliver him to the privacy of a bathroom before it _does_ sink in, but it's obvious he's too late for dignity when Peter won't look him in the eye as they avoid the mess and move down the hallway, leaving the others in stunned silence with the movie still droning on in the background.

It's times like this that make him truly realize how out of his depth he is with adopting a kid. He's not _ready_ for this. He's never dealt with a sick kid in his life, and now his first attempt might hurt Peter. Probably not permanently, sure, but he's not ready to have the weight of this kid's disappointment on his shoulders.

God, he should've read those parenting books Clint kept jokingly recommending. If he did, he'd probably know what to do now. Instead, he's running on total guesswork while he lowers Peter in front of the nearest toilet to finish out of sight of the others. He's edging his way out of the room when Peter stops him.

"Please don't leave me alone." He follows up with a gag that turns Tony's stomach, but he can't say no to that face. He settles in on the far side of the bathroom instead, within the "keeping company" distance he remembered from his hardcore drinking days but not at the Pepper-level degree of closeness that had often come at the end of those nights after he reached the point of sobbing, sloppy drunk.

His first instinct is objective pragmatism, but that's his first reaction to things in general, not to people he cares about. He's gotten closer to Peter since he first moved in. The fear of acknowledging his own emotions should be gone by now, even if the pace was a bit fast for his taste. Peter's not just anyone; he's important enough that Tony should be able to face his fears rather than letting them affect his own kid.

He sucks in a slow, measured breath through his mouth before shuffling closer and palming Peter's forehead. Yep, definitely a fever.

"Have you felt sick all day?"

Peter's silence is answer enough, and the implication turns Tony's stomach a little as well… though that could just be sympathy nausea. He doesn't have enough on the caretaker side of this scenario to know if that's a thing. Whatever. His problems shouldn't be the focus right now, not with a sick kid shivering on the floor three feet away.

"We'll talk later, okay?" he offers. "But we _do_ need to discuss why you don't trust me with this stuff soon. I'm responsible for you now, kiddo. I need to know when you need my help."

A tear trails down the side of Peter's face he can see, but he nods slowly.

"Later, alright? For now, let's just work on getting through this. What do you want me to do?"

All in all, it isn't the worst sick day he could've ended up with. There's something to be said for the learning experience and the nerves abated by making it through the first time. And maybe he has no right to feel this way yet, but he's more settled into the role of _parent_ than ever before.


End file.
